Deepening
by baileymag
Summary: One-shot, no slash. Sam finds comfort (and a good friend) in Frodo after the death of his sister.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. The first poem that appears in this story is untitled, but it was written by the very talented Sister Maria Virginia Silvano, IHM. The second poem is called "A Friend's Greeting," and it was written by Edgar A. Guest. I do not own either of those poems!_

_This story takes place in the year 1392, Shire Reckoning. Sam is 12 and Frodo is 24._

_Note: Special thanks to Christie, who always gives me great feedback and kicks my butt into gear! She also gave me the idea for this title!_

The summer air was cloying as Bilbo and Frodo stood at the door of Number 3 Bagshot Row. Bilbo knocked on the door and then nervously smoothed the lapels of his already-unrumpled suit. Frodo wiped away some sweat that had begun to bead up on his forehead.

Halfred Gamgee swung open the door. For a moment, he squinted at Bilbo and Frodo as though he couldn't place them. Halfred's eyes widened in recognition, "Ah, Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo. Thank you for comin', sirs," he said huskily. "You'll have to pardon me. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"No apologies necessary, lad," Bilbo assured him.

Shaking his head, Halfred pointed to a room down the hall. "Everyone's in there," he said.

Bilbo and Frodo soon discovered that, indeed, everyone _was _squeezed into the Gamgee's sitting room. It seemed to Frodo that the entire population of Hobbiton had come to pay their respects. The house would only become more crowded over the next few days as more friends and relations from the Shire's various farthings began arriving.

Weaving around the many gentlehobbits who were assembled, Frodo and Bilbo made their way to Hamfast and Bell Gamgee.

"Master Hamfast!" Bilbo cried, as he solemnly shook his hand and clasped his shoulder. "Our condolences. Daisy was a lovely lass and Frodo and I will dearly miss her." Bilbo turned to Mrs. Gamgee and kissed her cheek.

Frodo abandoned any pretense of formality and gave both of them a tight embrace.

The Gaffer and his wife gave the Baggins' misty-eyed nods, not trusting themselves to say anything without losing their composure. A handful of Boffins suddenly appeared, wishing to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee, so Bilbo and Frodo stepped aside. Bilbo soon found himself swept into a conversation with Odo Proudfoot while Frodo quietly sat by himself on the edge of a chair. Glancing around, he studied the interactions of both his neighbors and the grieving Gamgees. All around him, Frodo could hear people murmuring "Turrible tragedy." He saw Hamson and Halfred in the corner, talking to the Cotton boys. May flitted in and out of conversations, hastily straightening cushions and picture frames as she breezed through the room. Marigold wept as she hugged young Estella Bolger. Frodo's eyes continuously wandered back to Bell Gamgee. Whenever she was not accepting condolences, which was rare, she would lower her head and brace her fingertips against her temples. Three times, Frodo watched her do this, and each time she look as if she had just realized what had happened to her daughter. He felt his own eyes burn with tears at such a tragic display. Frodo ached for her and the Gaffer; and Hamson, and Halfred, and May, and—

"Where's Sam?" Frodo asked aloud, conscious that the young hobbit was nowhere to be seen.

Bell picked up her head in alarm. "Sam?"

"He's prob'ly out playing," Farmer Cotton called over.

This didn't seem to bring Bell any comfort, so Frodo offered to go look for him. "I'm sure he hasn't gone far," he said.

Frodo started by peeking under the tables and, reluctantly, under the beds. He felt rather intrusive, but he knew from personal experience that these were the first places where a hobbit child would hide. He ventured outside for a look, shading his eyes from the bright sun. "Sam?" he called. He scanned the small front yard, before heading around the back. "Sam?" Frodo called out again. He walked over to a hedge that sat in front of an old, dead tree. As he approached the hedge, he saw the tell-tale sign of small hobbit toes. The tree had been hollowed out, and peering inside the hollow trunk, Frodo saw Sam sitting with his chin resting upon his knees. The young hobbit looked up at Frodo with red-rimmed, miserable eyes.

"Hi-ii-ii-i," Sam wobbled out; he bit his lip to hold back a fresh batch of tears.

"Hullo," Frodo responded. He squatted down until he was eye-level with Sam. "I've been searching for you."

Sam gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement but said nothing.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Frodo inquired.

Sam shook his head. There wasn't much room inside the trunk, so Frodo had to scrunch a bit. He gazed at Sam, who kept his eyes downcast and busied himself by tracing on the tops of his feet with his fingers. Silence hung in the sticky air between the two hobbits. Quietly, almost to himself, Sam finally said, "I couldn't stay in there no longer." He still didn't look up. Frodo was silent. Sam examined the bits of grass beneath his feet. "Folk are real queer 'round me. They keep sayin' how sorry they are. Why?" he asked, suddenly looking up at Frodo. "Why do people say they're sorry, like it's their fault?"

"I don't know, Sam," Frodo said softly. "Folk said the same thing to me when my parents…." He paused. "I didn't understand it, either."

Sam shuddered. "Then they tell me that things are all right." He felt his throat tighten as his eyes burned with hot tears. "But they're not. They can't be. Not when I--," Sam looked past Frodo. His eyes were focused on something that only he could see.

_"Daisy, keep up! Come on; let's go play by them trees over there!"_

_"Do we have to use the bridge?"_

_"How else are we goin' to get across?"_

_"It just don't seem safe, Sam."_

_"Ohhhh!__ Marigold and I crossed here before!"_

_"Well--"_

_"Please, Daisy!"_

_Finally, she had agreed. She indulged Sam even further by pretending to be a frog as they crossed. Brother and sister leaped along the planks, their laughter interspersed with loud "Ribbits!"_

_The sickening crack of the boards giving way still echoed in Sam's head. He remembered spinning around to see a gaping hole where his sister should have stood. He had run over to that spot, shouting her name. Sam looked down and saw her. Somehow, she had managed to pull herself to the surface, and was struggling valiantly to stay afloat. Her screams were interrupted as water filled her mouth. Their eyes locked._

_"Help me, Sam!"_

_Sam was frozen in place._

_"Please! Help m--" Daisy was submerged._

_Sam began to run faster than he had in his entire life._

"She looked right at me!" Sam choked out. "She was so frightened, and she, and, help! Help me, Sam!" he began babbling amidst his grief-stricken cries. Tears slid down his face.

"Sam," Frodo said hoarsely, holding out his arms. "Come here."

Sam willingly clambered into Frodo's lap and curled up against him. "Why'd I make her go?" Sam sniffled out in a teary whisper. "Why didn't I listen? If I'd gone for help sooner. If I'd run just a bit faster."

Frodo gently grasped Sam by the shoulders and pulled him away in order to face him. "Sam," Frodo stated firmly, "it was an accident. It was no one's fault—least of all yours."

Sam wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "I don't believe you," he told Frodo sullenly. In an instant, a mixture of horror and fear washed over Sam as he realized what he'd said and to whom he'd said it. "Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Frodo," he squeaked. "I wasn't meanin' to be so rude--"

"It's fine, Sam," Frodo said, holding up one hand. He smiled gently. "I didn't expect you to believe me. Indeed, you may not for a good number of years; but one day you will," he continued, giving Sam a playful poke in the side. "Eventually, everyone realizes how wise I truly am."

For a moment, there seemed to be the tiniest hint of a smile on Sam's face. It quickly vanished, though, as his face crumbled with severe longing. "I miss her something awful," Sam confessed in a hushed tone. "I wish she was still here."

Frodo nodded with great understanding. "I know."

Burying his face into the palms of his hands, Sam began to cry again. His small body was wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Frodo drew Sam to him, tightly wrapping his arms around the dear child. He wordlessly held Sam; not saying it would be all right or even whispering 'shh.' Frodo just hugged him and let him cry. For this, Sam was enormously grateful.

After a good, long time of weeping out his anger and sadness, Sam began to calm down. Whether he'd run out of tears, or simply the energy to produce him, Sam wasn't sure. Soon, his profuse keening dissolved into dry sobs, which became slow, shuddery breaths, which finally became the odd hiccup or two. Frodo lightly gave Sam an extra squeeze and laid his cheek on top of the young Gamgee's head.

"I've made you all soggy," Sam mumbled, pulling at Frodo's jacket.

Frodo shrugged. "I'll dry." He raked his fingers through Sam's curls and heard Sam sigh in contentment (and his muscles relax in exhaustion). After sitting in one position for so long, Frodo's left arm had fallen asleep (quite frankly, so had his bottom). Trying to relieve the tingling, Frodo awkwardly shifted under Sam's weight. Feeling Frodo's movement, Sam immediately picked up his head.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

Frodo gave Sam's tear-stained cheek a fond kiss. "No. I'll stay here as long as you need me."

Sam fixed him with a serious gaze. "That may be a while," he warned.

"All right, then," Frodo said with a smile.

Sam leaned back into Frodo, resting his head on the older hobbit's shoulder. The two looked out at the world, where the sunlight filtered through the leaves and splashed on the ground.

**Nearly a year** had passed since Daisy's death. Things had resumed their natural pace in the Shire. Sam was spending more and more time at Bag End. This seemed to embarrass the Gaffer a bit; he didn't want his youngest son to be a nuisance. However, Bilbo and Frodo insisted that they enjoyed Sam's company. Bilbo began teaching the lad his letters and entertaining him with stories of his many adventures. Frodo and Sam would spend hours in Bilbo's study, poring over various books.

One day, they were reading a book of poetry. "You try the next one, Sam," Frodo encouraged him.

"All right," Sam said. He flicked his eyes over the words before he said them out loud. His reading skills were still a bit new, and he wanted to make as few mistakes as possible. As his eyes traveled down the page, Sam paled and blinked rapidly. Summoning up a deep breath, Sam recited (with his voice hitching):

_Daisies_

_Are so like you,_

_I have yet to see one_

_That is not open, simple and _

_Lovely_

Sam turned to Frodo, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's strange, Mr. Frodo. This made me sad, but also a little bit happy. It's a nice way to think of her."

Frodo smiled. "I'm glad, Sam."

"Samwise?"

Frodo and Sam looked up to see the Gaffer standing in the doorway. "We best be gettin' home, lad."

"Yes, Da," Sam responded, obediently getting up from his seat.

"Remember to say 'thank you' to Mr. Frodo," his father prompted him.

Sam nodded vigorously. He looked to Frodo and impulsively hugged him around the waist. "Thank you," Sam said sincerely. "Thank you for…lots of things."

Frodo hugged Sam back. "You're welcome."

Releasing Frodo, Sam walked over to the Gaffer. Suddenly, he turned back around. "Do y'see that green book up there?" he asked Frodo, pointing at the shelves.

"Yes, I see it," Frodo replied.

"Well," Sam said, clasping his hands behind his back. "There's another poem in there that made me rather happy. I marked it for you, if you'd like to read it."

"Yes, I think I shall," Frodo told him.

With a final wave, Sam clung to his father's hand and the two walked towards the door.

After a moment, Frodo went over to the shelves and extracted the green book. Flipping it open to the page Sam had marked, Frodo read:

_I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me;_

_I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be;_

_I'd like to mean as much to you each minute of the day_

_As you have meant, old friend of mine, to me along the way._

_I'd like to do the big things and the splendid things for you_

_To brush the gray from out your skies and leave them only blue;_

_I'd like to say the kindly things that I so oft have heard,_

_And feel that I could rouse your soul the way that mine you've stirred._

_I'd like to give you back the joy that you have given to me,_

_Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will never be;_

_I'd like to make you feel as rich as I, who travel on_

_Undaunted in the darkest hours with you to lean upon_

_I'm wishing at this…time that I could but repay_

_A portion of the gladness that you've strewn along my way;_

_And could I have one wish this year, this only would it be:_

_I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me._

Frodo was happy too.

_Thanks for reading! As always, you can submit scathing criticism, glowing praise, and anything in between by hitting the little purple button!_


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